


How do I fix this?

by neitherbluenorgreen



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode IIX
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Hint at Smut, Poe is being protective, fluffy and comforting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-12
Updated: 2018-01-12
Packaged: 2019-03-03 17:48:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,398
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13346346
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/neitherbluenorgreen/pseuds/neitherbluenorgreen
Summary: Poe Dameron is grounded and has to fight his feelings when a friend gets herself in danger. His way out? Yelling at her, of course!





	How do I fix this?

Arms crossed, Poe Dameron leant against the wall next to a hangar door, watching the IPV-1 land. He had waited for hours and he wasn’t sure how long he’d be able to endure this tension without snapping. Next to him, BB-8 beeped questioningly, but Poe shook his head.  
„I don’t know either, “he growled, clenching his fingers into a fist to keep them from tapping nervously. „There has been no communication, but that hull looks scorched.“  
A flurry of beeps answered him and he held up a hand.  
„Thank you, but I don’t need a systems analysis, I need to…“

  
The hiss of the craft’s doors opening drew his attention. Seconds later a gargle of Alliance crew poured into the hangar, laughing, hugging each other.  
The relief flooding through him nearly made his knees go weak. He straightened and searched the group for a certain face – after a few seconds of eternity he spotted her tall frame. There she was. A smile spread over his face. He knew how Bo’ce felt. Still on an adrenaline high, pumped from the fight, exhilarated at the thought of being alive, even after the dangers she’d faced. He knew this feeling intimately. But she shouldn’t. His smile faltered and he pushed off the wall, aiming to intercept her.  
Her face lit up when she saw him and the spring in her step nearly turned into a run, until she saw the look on his face. He knew he must be looking grim, but the way her face fell still stung. She scowled and changed directions, obviously not wanting to face him now. But he was having none of it. Jogging after her, he caught up with her before she arrived at the hole in the wall leading to the mechanics‘ labyrinth.

  
„Bo’ce, stop,“ he called, reaching for her arm.  
She spun around and stepped back, evading his grip. Drawing herself up, she put an emphasis on their height-difference. It was not even that much, but he recognized it as one of her defense mechanisms. For a moment he felt almost dizzy from the conflicting emotions of annoyance at her antagonism and the fondness for a familiar habit.  
„Poe Damn-eron,“ she greeted him and he winced. From the look on her face, she enjoyed his reaction. More antagonism, was it? She knew he hated that nickname and her tone was nowhere near as playful as usually when she used it.  
„Here to scold me? “she asked, crossing her arms.  
His relief at seeing her unscathed turned into anger again.  
„Damn right I am! “he growled. „How could you go on such a crazy, dangerous mission?“  
„Oh, that’s rich, coming from you, “she retorted. „Mister Let-me-jump-into-danger!“  
„I may take risks, but I can handle it! “he barked, regretting his choice of words at once.  
„Oh, can you? You, who’s basically grounded because of the stunt he pulled the day before yesterday? Whose X-wing is still spread out across the floor behind me, being reassembled and repaired because of your stupidity?“ she huffed.  
“And that is what you should have been doing!” he yelled. “Instead of risking your neck out there you could have fixed the X-wing by now!” he shot back, angered at her critique, no matter how well deserved it was. He knew he was reacting irrationally, but his worry for her safety still gripped him tightly and he couldn’t help but lash out.  
She paused, trying to collect herself and he could tell she had a hard time composing herself.  
“They needed a mechanic! With all the repairs necessary at the moment,” she said testily, “there was nobody else who was dispensable.”  
He snorted, looking around as if looking for somebody to agree with him how outrageously nonsensical she was being. “Dispensable? There is no way you are dispensable!”  
His forced amusement faltered when he saw the look on her face. She looked unsure, biting her lip and eyes darting to the floor.  
“Bo’ce, you’re not really thinking you’re dispensable?” He grabbed her shoulder. Something clenched inside his chest, realization beginning to dawn just why she had volunteered to go on that mission.  
“You are crazy, you know that? If that mission had failed, if you’d not returned…”  
Before he could finish she barked: “What? Somebody else could have fixed your precious X-Wing. There are tons of better mechanics on this base. I’m one among many and at least this way I mattered!”  
She shrugged of his hand, turning away, but he saw her eyes swimming with tears.  
For a moment he was stunned. He shook his head.  
“But you do matter. I need you,” he began then bit his lip. He could not say what he wanted to say. “The Resistance needs every hand, especially those as skilled as yours.”  
She shot him an angry look over her shoulder, hissing “Yeah, go celebrate this win with the others, I’ll fix your X-wing, Dameron,” and started walking away.  
For a moment he was stunned. Couldn’t she see that he was worried for her? Not because of her job, but because of reasons he had not quite figured out himself.

  
A chirping beep broke his paralysis. Bo’ce called “Sure, BB, your help is always welcome,” without looking back. As the droid rolled after the woman, Poe rubbed his chin. Taking a deep breath, he decided to follow, too. Even though he didn’t have a bit of talent in repairing things, maybe the magic she had worked so often on his fighter would rub off on him, to repair… this. What ever it was.  
He kept his distance, knowing she’d need to cool off. The way he had confronted her had been exactly the wrong thing to do. Still he wanted to shake some sense into her. Even understanding her reasons, even feeling the exact same need to matter, to make a difference, he just could not stand seeing her put herself in danger.  
He swallowed hard. As Bo’ce reconnected the diagnostics tools and took inventory of the parts spread out before her, his eyes wandered over the scorch marks on the hull of his ship. It had been another close call. If she only felt half the way he felt about her, she must know what he was feeling. The utter panic at hearing she had ran off, throwing herself into the firing lines of the First Order’s stormtroopers. Did she feel the same? He clenched and unclenched his fists. This over-thinking wasn’t him. He was somebody who took action.  
Strutting over to the part of Black One that was already reassembled, he pretended to inspect it.  
“If you’re planning to order me to work faster, I’ll scratch your face off, Dameron,” Bo’ce told him darkly. He turned around, raising an eyebrow at her. Why did she insist on calling him Dameron? Not once had he heard her say his first name, only ever “Dameron” or that irritating “Damn-eron”.  
“As if hurrying you had ever worked,” he said lightly, almost hoping that their playful banter would return, but in this situation, there was no way they’d just get back to normal. Despite knowing it was a foolish thing to say, he added: “And with that short, sensible mechanic’s fingernails, you’d never be able to really scratch anything.”  
What he didn’t expect was Bo’ce throwing herself at him, punching his shoulder, hard. He stumbled a step back before righting himself.  
“I’ve had it with you and your patronizing bull-shit,” she hissed, shoving him back. “I’m not your personal mechanic and it’s not your place to decide what I can do or which risks I can take for that matter!”  
She was fuming and he raised his hands in a placating gesture.  
“I wouldn’t presume anything like that, I was worried for you, because…,” he tried taking her down, but she interrupted him.  
“Because I am ‘needed as a mechanic’?” she hissed, her emphasis on his words making him wince.  
“Because I have to sit here and wait for you to come back and hand off another broken piece of equipment, only to then saunter off again?”  
Something inside him snapped and he caught her hands before she could shove him again.  
“Did it never occur to you, that I could be worried about you?” he barked. “That I was worried sick I’d only get a report that a mission had failed and never see you again?”  
She looked taken aback, shaking her head. Before she could insist again that he only worried about the X-Wing, he continued: “Yes, I keep running off and throw myself at the danger, but piloting is the only thing I’m good at. I need to pull my weight and I can only do that out there!”  
She shook her head. “You’re a leader. You are rash and hot-headed, but those risks you take…” she trailed off.  
BB-8 choose that moment to inquire about the repair. In one voice both Poe and Bo’ce snapped: “Not now, BB.” With a slightly miffed series of beeps the droid rolled back to the fighter.  
Bo’ce rolled her shoulders, rubbing her neck.  
“It was stupid of me to storm off like that. But the timing was critical and I needed to feel…,” again she trailed off. He looked at her profile while she seemed to study her boots.  
“Whatever,” she sighed after a moment. “I’ll get back to my work and you can do whatever a Dameron needs to do.”  
“You are trying to rile me up, is that it?” he suddenly burst out. “Did I do anything to get on your bad side? Was it somehow meant as revenge, you running off to get yourself killed?” His face was millimeters from hers, his pulse racing.  
For a moment she was stunned and just looked at him. Slowly she shook her head and then very calmly, softly but clearly said: “You better go and fuck yourself with a faulty blaster you arrogant bastard.”  
“What is wrong with you?” he asked, his voice rising again. “Can’t you see that I care for you?”  
Bo’ce froze and looked at him with big eyes. He’d never seen her like this, completely still, when she was usually fiddling around with something, bouncing on her heels or gesticulating wildly. She seemed like a wild animal sensing an AT-AT approach, caught between the instinct to run and the urge to hide.  
“You care?” she asked, her eyes darting around, carefully not meeting his gaze. Suddenly he felt light-headed and all doubts vanished from his mind. He pulled her towards himself and kissed her.  
It wasn’t how you’d imagine a first kiss. He had closed his eyes, pressing his lips to hers with a mixture of exhilaration, fear and purpose swirling through him. Her lips were warm, soft, but she was still completely frozen, overwhelmed. Just as he began regretting his action, fearing she’d slap him, or worse, turn away, he felt her sigh and she wrapped her arms around his neck.  
The kiss was almost chaste, soft and soon turned into a hug. They stood for a moment, content in the moment, relieved by the decision he had made. After a while Poe took Bo’ce’s hand and lead her to a pile of boxes to sit down. The look on her face sobered him up.  
“You’ve been through a lot today,” he whispered. She nodded almost absentmindedly. He began rubbing her shoulders.  
“Not everybody goes from fighting for their life to epic shouting match to realizing they found their true love in one day,” he quipped and she snorted.  
“You’re never exaggerating, are you?” she said and he was relieved to her a smile in her voice.  
“Well, maybe the shouting wasn’t quite epic,” he mused and was rewarded with soft laughter. She relaxed against him and he held her tight.  
“It wasn’t even that bad, you know?” she began after a while. “I wasn’t in any direct danger. At least it never felt like it. There was always the possibility that our ship would be destroyed and I’d die cold and alone in space or in a fiery explosion, but I never saw an enemy. I was busy fixing things on our side and un-fixing things for them and then there was yelling and running and suddenly everybody cheered and it was over.”  
He made comforting noises and kept running his hands over her back.  
“I bet it’s not always like that,” she admitted. “I’m pretty sure I’ll have a moment of realization, when I suddenly know how close to dying I really was.” She paused and then added: “But it was important. And I’d do it again.”  
He stopped dead and snorted. “No, you’re not.”  
She turned to him: “Excuse me?” There was this special kind of aggressive amusement she displayed just before telling him off. “You can’t be serious, Dameron.”  
“I’m not trying to tell you what to do, but surely you realize that risking your life for the sake of it isn’t helping the cause at all,” he tried to argue.  
“I thought we were past the ‘I’m only doing things because of you or to rile you up’,” she shot back. “You’re not my keeper.”  
Exasperated he demanded: “What am I then?”  
A mischievous smile spread over her face. Deep inside anticipation began to grow and he raised an eyebrow. “Well? What do you need me for?” He asked, drawing out the “need” and stressing the “me”.  
She rose and took his hand. “There are quite a few possibilities,” she purred. He let himself be led to the little room nearby she called “her spot”, not far from where she worked on the X-wing. In front of the door, she paused and kissed him gently.  
“For now, I need warmth,” she whispered in his ear. “And I need to feel alive.”  
He cupped her face and drew her closer and into a kiss. This time it wasn’t chaste. He made himself go slow, but they both began to feel the urge inside rising and she pulled him inside.

  
It was a while afterwards, when they both collapsed, exhausted. He held her close, breathing her scent, the familiar mixture of something flowery-citric and gear oil. He ran his fingers over her naked skin and smiled.  
“Damn-,” she murmured and he tensed up, but couldn’t help but laugh when she finished with “…damn, Poe, that was amazing.”


End file.
